The way of quiet clouds,
And homage of the muddy hills,
Humanity affirmed in slower days,
Though every tremor of the haste,
Lays close beside the resting heart,
It is a strength one does not have,
And so must humbly ask for peace.

Colour vision arrayed in hidden rows and spirals
Deep behind void blackness in the eyes,
To hold the light so close and dearly
That it needn't grace again the world outside,
Now cast the land in colour so it drips
With hues and saturation overwhelming,
Turn the petals into memory
The clouds a comfort for the mind.

Month's end,
The temporal path seems to fall away ahead,
I see a days journey winding to the faded drop,
Beyond it a fathomless expanse,
It pulses with ancient vacancy,
The time flows on afloat the horizon,
I see the Month beginning anew,
A solitary island beyond the shore of deepest time,
It will be crossed in a blink when I dive off Month's end.